the ghost of dead slaves has a face of bees. yearning for, but never finding their queen. the sadist Timaeus under any other name. the sadist Timaeus was once in service to the names of angels. multiplying blank slates along the bounding line of self and other.
in his own divided moisture, he must become what he lacks.
to the god of masters, the world is an abyss of spectres, that hollow the person to straw dogs. this demon begets a second who chases it into the darkness, where it dies and gives birth the man who is made out of bees.
& I can know that you're a man, because upon watching your loved one's die, you vowed revenge.
gods sleep at the beginning
and once you lose your body
you become voice
the nature of suffering objects
is that they believe that they deserve it
Computer poetry is warfare carried out by other means, a warfare against conventionality and language that has become automatized. Strange as it seems, our finite state automata have become the poet’s allies in this struggle, the long historical battle by which mankind pries into the surface of language to reveal its latent mysteries… R.W. Bailey, Computer Poems (1973)
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